A Grief that Can't Be Spoken
by GSunderland
Summary: Sometimes, in the face of grief, words are not enough. (historical drabble)


He could tell something was wrong the moment the informant entered the room. The man's face was still, but his eyes betrayed a weariness and grief that was badly hidden behind decorum.

Lithuania looked back through the door behind him to Estonia and Latvia. He shook his head, then nodded in the direction of their rooms. _This won't be good. Stay away for a while._ They knew that response, and trusted his instincts. Latvia mouthed the words "be careful" before following Estonia.

Shutting the door silently, Lithuania walked carefully into the room.

Russia's face was a mask of calm as he regarded the informant before him. The man stood silently for a while, as if struggling to find the right words.

"The royal family are dead." he said finally.

Lithuania felt his whole body go numb. Russia became very still, although his face didn't change.

"When?" Russia asked. "How?"

"On the 17th. They were taken into the basement and executed by firing squad."

"All of them?"

"All of them. Even the servants." The informant stared at the floor as he spoke. "Yurovsky has been trying to keep the news from getting out. I barely managed to get here without his notice."

"I see." There was a long pause. The words hung in the air like a smog, dimming the July sunlight that streamed through the windows.

After a while, Russia nodded. "Thank you. You may go."

The informant hesitated, then turned mechanically and left. When the door shut behind him, it echoed loudly in the empty space.

Russia stood with this back to Lithuania, still as motionless as before. Lithuania could feel a tight pressure in his chest, like something rusted had been jammed into his ribs. He found himself desperately wishing that he knew the right words to say.

"Russia?" His voice was barely audible, even in the stillness that had fallen. Still, Russia turned to face him. His eyes were downcast and dark.

"I guess it's just a sacrifice that had to be made." he said, voice hard. The coldness of his reply didn't quite reach his eyes, and his shoulders shook ever so slightly.

Then the mask crumbled. Russia sank slowly to the floor, a hand covering his face. Lithuania rushed over to help, still uncertain what that entailed. Between the half-choked sobs, he could make out a single word.

"Why?"

Lithuania knelt down, wrapping his arms around the larger nation. Russia clung to him like a drowning man to a raft, face pressed into his shoulder.

"I know things were bad." he choked out. "But why must there be so much death to make it right?"

There was no answer Lithuania could give.

The rest of the day passed in silence.

A dark cloud had descended on the house, swallowing its inhabitants whole. The usually bustling corridors became vacant and eerie, and as the sun set it only became lonlier.

It felt like a hole in his chest, a sense of loss he couldn't quite explain. He had never been very close to the royal family, but the suddenness and violence of their death had shaken him. Estonia and Latvia kept a low profile, perhaps in the fear that Russia's grief might manifest in a more violent display.

As night fell, Russia still hadn't left his quarters. The Baltics got ready for bed, still wondering if he'd eventually call on them for company or his usual night-cap. In the end, the call never came.

On the way to his room, Lithuania paused at Russia's door. No light shone underneath, so he supposed the larger nation must have gone to sleep already. He reached hesitantly towards the door, opening it as silently as possible.

The room was dark, it's only light coming from the dim stars beyond the window. He could barely make out a large form curled up on the mattress. Lithuania crept around the end of the bed and knelt at the edge where Russia was facing.

The man's face was tense, hands gripping the pillow tightly. Even in the dim light, it was easy to see how red his eyes were.

Watching him, Lithuania was struck with the feeling he'd felt a thousand times before, but could never name. It wasn't a happy feeling, but it wasn't painful or sad either. It was a bit like being swept into something beyond his control, or something coming into focus. He had felt it on that bridge so many years ago, and it had followed him ever since.

He was lost enough in his thoughts that it took him a moment to realized that Russia had opened his eyes.

"Sorry! I was just checking to see if you were alright. I'll let you get back to sleep." He started to rise, only to be pulled back down by Russia.

Russia flipped back the blanket and pulled Lithuania into a tight embrace before throwing the blanket back over them. After a moment of surprise, Lithuania settled with his back against Russia's chest.

They stayed like that in silence for a long time. The house around them slowly fell silent as its inhabitants went to sleep one by one. Lithuania half wondered if the others were lying awake in their beds, minds turbulent and far too active for the time of night.

After a while, Russia said "It's odd..."

"What is?"

Russia didn't respond right away. He rested his chin on top of Lithuania's head, arms wrapping around the smaller nation's torso.

"People want freedom, even if it destroys everything they knew. Sometimes I wonder... is it worth it?"

It was an oddly philosophical line of thought, the kind of musing he rarely heard Russia share. In all honesty, Lithuania didn't know if Russia was referring to the current revolution or to Lithuania himself. And although he couldn't tell if the revolution's ends would justify the deaths it caused, he knew what it felt like to feel trapped to the point that finding freedom became all that mattered.

No matter what the means had been or how selfish it made him feel, if freedom was offered to him Lithuania would take it.

Reaching out, he set his hand over Russia's.

"Try to get some sleep." he said quietly.


End file.
